“What do they want?” he asked testily.
“They did not say,” Uni responded. “I put wine by their hands and left them.”
“Very well. Send Ipi with his palette to the reception hall.” Uni acknowledged the order and Seqenenra rose, went quickly into the passage beyond, answered the salute of the guard at the far end, and made his way to where the mayor and three other men stood awkwardly waiting, goblets full of untouched wine in their hands. As he approached, they bowed low. Seqenenra settled himself on the seat of audience and bade them relax. “Now,” he said, keeping his uneasiness hidden. “What may your Prince do for you?” The mayor straightened, put down his wine, and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Highness, we know that our lord Kamose is journeying through the nomes gathering men. We know that you, Highness, have no building projects underway at the present time.” Here Seqenenra hid a smile of approval at the mayor’s tact. I have no architects, let alone plans for monuments, and you know it, he thought. I made a wise choice when I appointed you as chief representative of my town. “Therefore,” the mayor went on, “these men are not needed to haul stone. We respectfully wish to know if our Prince is raising an army, and if he is, whether or not he intends to move against Het-Uart?” There was a small disturbance as Ipi glided in, sank to the floor by Seqenenra’s feet, and slid open his brush box, and in the few seconds of grace Seqenenra considered and decided.
“The answer is yes to both questions,” he said tersely, “although I doubt if I will be able to fight my way as far as Het-Uart.” The mayor smiled. His companions murmured to each other.
“Then, Prince, we wish you to know that we will not wait for his Highness Kamose to command us to deliver conscripts. We have brought a list of all men able to carry arms for your Scribe of Recruits.”
“Why, Your Excellency?” Seqenenra was genuinely taken aback. “If I choose to conscript your citizens, you have no choice in the matter in any case.” The mayor drew himself up.
“Because many hentis ago Weset was a city sacred to all Egypt. The Incarnation of the God ruled the land from here. The people of Weset love you. Whether or not the Double Crown sits on your head, you are the Beautiful of Risings, the One Who Causes Hearts to Live, the Son of the Sun. We are your cattle, Majesty, but we share the long grief of your royal family.” He raised his shoulders. “Can I say more? We also offer whatever goods each household can afford to give.”
Seqenenra was overcome. Tears burned behind his eyelids. I seem to spend most of my time these days snivelling like a lovelorn girl, he berated himself, yet today I am surely forgiven. I have never heard myself called Majesty before, nor could the word be any sweeter if it came from the lips of a Vizier himself rather than from this portly, dignified son of Egypt.
“I accept this great gesture with a thankful heart,” he managed huskily. “You have honoured Amun also today, and if by his will I am able to return the Horus Throne to its rightful place in Weset, both I and my father the god will be eternally grateful. Ipi, take the list.” The scribe reached out and took the scroll offered by one of the men. “Drink your wine now,” Seqenenra told them. “Return this evening with your wives and be my guests at dinner. I can offer little in the way of hospitality, but perhaps there will be good entertainment.” After a while he dismissed them and went to the office where Uni waited impatiently, the day’s problems cluttering the desk, and he was humming as he opened the door and greeted the steward.
Kamose returned shortly, weary and taciturn, and leaving his brother to organize the men he had brought and get them across the river and into their billets, he sought out his father. Seqenenra had been talking with Tani, a pleasure he had had little time for lately. The girl did not fully understand the events that had overtaken the family and was watching, terrified, for the retribution she was sure would fall on her father from the gods for disturbing the balance of Ma’at, but she was trying to keep her anxiety to herself. There was still Ramose, expected for a visit soon, and his messages that she reread many times to comfort herself in the long, hot afternoons. Still, her efforts at cheerfulness did not deceive her father. She had recently turned fourteen and her youth lock had been removed and burned. Seqenenra fervently wished that not only a betrothal but a marriage might take place soon between her and Ramose and she might be removed from any danger at Weset.
He was casting about for some way to accomplish this when he came to the end of the passage to the women’s quarters and was met by Kamose. They embraced. Kamose was still covered in the dust and grime of his journey. Seqenenra sent a servant running for beer and he and his son went into the garden, settling themselves under the faint shade by the pool. Kamose tore off his crumpled linen helmet and used it to wipe his face and neck. After a few words of unimportant conversation he said, “Ahmose tells me that the soldiers’ new quarters are very cramped and rations are short. Also there are not enough donkeys to carry water into the desert. Apart from these things the river will begin to rise in less than a month and in two months marching will be impossible.” He began to rub the grit and sand from his legs. “It is not too late to change your mind, Prince.” Seqenenra watched the nimble fingers slap at the stained calves.
“Hor-Aha tells me the same thing,” he replied. “But I cannot wait another year, Kamose. You know that. I intend to march ahead of the Inundation. How many men have you brought me?” Kamose lay back on one elbow.
“A thousand and three hundred. I could have brought more if we had not been forced to send so many north to the King’s labours. There were no questions asked, of course. How many Medjay did Hor-Aha manage to persuade?” Only thirteen hundred. Seqenenra pushed away the wave of panic that constricted his chest.
“Two thousand, but every one is worth two of Apepa’s men and, of course, we have our own five hundred troops. I am hoping to gather support from the cities and nomes we pass.”
“Not even a division,” Kamose said drily. “We need another seventeen hundred men for that. Rumour has it that Apepa commands more than one hundred thousand Setiu troops in Het-Uart alone.” Seqenenra heard the rebuke in his son’s voice but did not respond to it.
“We will call our soldiers a division in spite of the numbers,” he decided. “The Division of Amun. The original fifty Medjay bodyguards will be the Braves of the King and Hor-Aha is training five hundred tribesmen as Shock Troops. It will be a miniature army, Kamose, but still an army.”
“You will command in the field?”
“Of course. But I do not want Ahmose to fight.” Kamose sat up but said nothing. His gaze was fixed intently on his father. Seqenenra went on, “Our line must not die out, Kamose. If I fall in battle, there must be an heir to the governorship here. If he is clever, he can persuade Apepa that I alone was stricken with this madness and he tried to prevent it.”
“I can see that Ahmose must not fight,” Kamose agreed. “The promise of the future should be preserved if possible. If we die, Ahmose is still here.”
“I know you do not really want to fight,” Seqenenra said gently. “If the choice was yours, you would do everything in your power to keep all as it is, to preserve our blood for a time in the future when the Setiu will be gone from Egypt. But I tell you that the time is here, now. Besides, Apepa will make sure that war or no war this family disappears into oblivion.”
Kamose sighed. “You are right. I just want with everything in me to believe it is not so. I hate him!” The black eyes, heavily kohled and red-rimmed, suddenly blazed at Seqenenra. “I hate what his stupid suspicions are doing to Aahmes-nefertari and her unborn baby and to you most of all! I need to bathe.” His burst of fury vanished as swiftly as it had come. Getting up, he brushed off his kilt and strode away. Seqenenra himself left the garden a moment later, walking to the shallow, oily river to be poled to the west bank to inspect the conscripts. There was as yet no sign of the flood and for that he was grateful. An early Inundation would have made an already foolhardy gesture into an adventure i
n futility.
Seqenenra was leaving the temple precincts late one morning after several hours spent with Amunmose, both of them trying to wring every last uten’s weight the god could spare for the coming conflict. The High Priest had not demurred when Seqenenra had asked for his help. It would be, after all, Amun’s war as well as the Prince’s, and Amunmose with his scribe had emptied the temple treasury. The priests would have to tighten their belts and apart from the god’s food, clothing and the vital incense, the chests were gutted. “It is a pity that your Highness cannot trade off some of your cattle in the Delta, and Amun’s also,” Amunmose had observed. “Cattle always fetch much grain and perhaps even a little gold. But the One would ask why.”
“The One will soon ask why in any case,” Seqenenra had replied. He was becoming concerned that Apepa would begin to look for a reply to the letter. Two months had passed since the King’s outrageous demand and Seqenenra’s heart missed a beat every time a barge bearing the royal colours hove into sight. So far they had sailed on or stopped only to deliver scrolls for Tani. But one day soon a final ultimatum would arrive. By then, Seqenenra thought to himself, stepping from the temple pylon’s deep shade into the full glare of the morning sun and walking to his patient litter bearers, I will be on my way north fighting anyone who gets in my way. Will Apepa have been alerted? Will there be an army standing waiting, at Aabtu, at Akhmin or Djawati?
He was about to lower himself onto the litter and the bearers were taking their places when he heard Tani call “Father!” Squinting into the light he watched her run towards him, the gossamer sheath tight against her tanned body, her sandals kicking up puffs of sand. She came up to him, panting and laughing, dark eyes alight under their dusting of green eyepaint. It had been a long time since he had seen her so excited.
“Calm yourself!” he said, smiling. “No one should run in this heat. What is it, Tani?”
“Ramose and his father are here!” she almost shouted. “Teti is on his way to inspect Tynt-to-amu before the Inundation begins and they decided to pay us a visit!”
“Here, sit beside me,” Seqenenra gestured, getting onto the litter. “I think the men can carry both of us. Close the curtains, it’s too hot to look out.” Tani let the curtains fall and turned to him, eyes shining. The bearers lifted them and they began to sway the short distance to the house. “And is the great and mighty Ramose as wonderful as the last time you saw him?” Seqenenra teased her, his own lightness of heart due to the relief he felt. I could have been coming back from the training ground across the river with Hor-Aha and my weapons, he thought. Thank the gods I was in the temple today!
“Oh, twice as wonderful!” Tani vowed. “He has brought me the most beautiful pectoral you ever saw and the balance-pendant at the back is in gold and turquoise, the crown of Mut to ward off the attacks of the evil ones from behind! Mother made me put it away for now.” She leaned towards him anxiously, all huge eyes and moving hair, and her breath smelled of the honeycomb she had been sucking when she saw the barge approaching. “I think Teti also brings a betrothal contract,” she whispered. “He will want to discuss a dowry. What shall we do?” He smoothed back her tresses and kissed her on the cheek.
“That is not your concern,” he reproved her. “Do not worry. Are you not a Princess, my Tani?” You shall have your dowry even if I have to sell all my cattle to pay for it, he promised her mutely. One of us at least shall have his greatest desire.
The litter slowed and he heard the bearers exchange a polite greeting with someone. Parting the curtains he saw that they were now moving along the dusty street dividing his domain from the trees that lined the river. Two men were standing back to let them pass. One was Mersu, Tetisheri’s steward, who saluted Seqenenra with grave respect. The other, even now bowing as he saw the curtain part, was unknown to Seqenenra.
“I think that is Teti’s Chief Scribe,” Tani told him as he let the hangings drop and the litter turned towards the house. “Or perhaps it is his steward. Anyway, I believe I saw him on the estate at Khemennu. Greetings, Ramose!” The litter had been lowered. Tani swung her feet to the ground and the young man’s hand came out to help her. At the same time, he managed to bow to Seqenenra.
“My greetings, Prince,” he said. “I hope my frequent written salutations to Tani did not annoy you. I had to make sure that no handsome count’s son caught her eye while I was not near her!” Seqenenra placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I was not annoyed,” he replied with a smile. “I am almost persuaded that you are worthy of my daughter. We shall see.” He turned to Tani. “You may go with him now, but be in the garden soon to share the greeting meal. Both of you!” They did not scurry away as they might have done a few months before. Holding hands they strolled back along the street, dappled in shade, heads together, their bodyguard behind. It did Seqenenra good to see them so. He set off across the tired grass towards the house.
Teti rose from his stool beside Aahotep and came smiling to greet Seqenenra. He had put on weight since Seqenenra had seen him last, but not enough to make him corpulent. It only served to emphasize the impression of authority Teti carried with him. Gold sparked from his bracelets as he held out his hands. He was resplendent in a yellow-and-whitestriped linen helmet, a dazzling white, stiffly starched kilt and a soft white shirt. Several rows of solid silver chains studded with jasper encircled his neck. The fingers that Seqenenra clasped were heavy with rings. “Teti!” Seqenenra exclaimed, waving him down and lowering himself into the grass beside him. “This is an unexpected pleasure! Tani tells me you are on your way to inspect the first cataract before the Inundation comes thundering through it!” He caught Tetisheri’s eye and read his own relief mirrored there. Uni bent and offered him wine and a dish of dried plums. He took the wine and sipped. Teti pulled his jewelled fly whisk from his belt and began to apply it to the folds of flesh at his waist where the flies were gathering in search of salt.
“That is in response to my command from the One,” he answered. “My own purpose, happily combined with his, is to offer you a betrothal contract between Ramose and Tani.” He made a playful face over the rim of his cup. “I think it is written on the last piece of papyrus in my office. Ramose has stolen all the rest for his letters to her.” They all laughed.
“I am very pleased, Teti,” Seqenenra said. “And yes, it is time to join the two of them. There is no doubt in Tani’s mind that it is Ramose she wants.”
“So we will celebrate?” Teti signalled for more wine. “A wedding in the spring when Egypt will be green again?”
“Agreed.” They raised their cups together. “But let us not discuss the details now. We will do it tomorrow morning in the office. I will give her a good dowry, as befits a Princess.”
“Of course you will!” They drank again. Seqenenra felt waves of wine-induced contentment flow over him and for just a moment he forgot that outside this garden, this house, Weset seethed with military activity.
But Teti’s next remark brought him back to earth with a jolt. “What is going on over the river?” the man asked. “We saw loaded donkeys following a track into the hills and a contingent of soldiers behind them. Surely only the dead inhabit West-of-Weset?” Seqenenra stared at him and it was Tetisheri who answered.
“Some of the tombs have been pillaged,” she said coolly, “and when Si-Amun went in person to inspect the damage, he found a number of burials not only disturbed but the tombs themselves in a bad state of repair. A small village for workmen and soldiers has been built out on the desert so that the tombs can be attended to and then guarded.”
“Have you found the thieves?” Teti asked with interest. Seqenenra shrugged.
“Not yet, but we will. Questioning the peasants yields little information, but they are simple men and sooner or later the culprits will try to trade what they managed to steal. Then we will punish.” He put his cup carefully in the grass and braced himself for further discussion, but the moment was saved by the arrival of Tani and R
amose and in the general chatter the subject of the tombs was dropped. Teti did, however, ask where Si-Amun, Kamose and Ahmose were. Aahotep told him they were overseeing the work on the west bank. Teti seemed mollified. Shortly afterwards, Tetisheri called for Mersu and went to her apartments with Aahotep to consult over the feast that had to be prepared.
Teti, the perfect guest, presented Aahotep with three brace of ducks he and Ramose had killed in the reeds the evening before when they made camp, and several delicacies he had stored for the long trip to Tynt-to-amu. Seqenenra’s harpist played and sang. Tani danced, wearing the pectoral Ramose had given her, a white, gilt-threaded ribbon wound through her short, curling hair. There was plenty of beer and wine. Si-Amun, Kamose and Ahmose, warned discreetly by the ever-vigilant Uni, had arrived at sunset freshly washed to support Seqenenra’s story. Aahmes-nefertari, heavily pregnant but full of fun, told a bawdy story Hetepet, her body servant, had heard in the market that day. Yet Seqenenra did not think that his relative by marriage was deceived. Teti laughed, ate and drank, kept up a constant stream of conversation, but his kohled eyes were watchful. Ramose had eyes only for Tani. He teased her about her hair, still growing after the youth lock had been shaved off, and fed her by hand like a beloved pet.
ON THE FOLLOWING MORNING Teti and Seqenenra met in the office to haggle over Tani’s dowry. The final agreement would not be made until the marriage contract was drawn up, but the initial offer would have to be made and considered. Teti, hearing Seqenenra talk, was clearly uneasy. For a while he nodded, grunted, nodded, then he held up a hand and Seqenenra was silent.
“Pardon me, Prince,” he interrupted. “I do not wish to appear rude but you seem absent, preoccupied. Are the fortunes of your family a little strained? Has the One raised your taxes too high this year?”
The Hippopotamus Marsh Page 9
